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The final chapter to the joint writing effort. Previous chapters can be found here. Be sure to read those chapters first if you haven't already.
Chapter 5
Ronon finally ran into a Wraith inside the compound, standing guard between him and the other side of an open door. The Wraith was alone as far as Ronon could see, armed with one of the long-handled stunners, the ones you could stab with when stunning wasn't good enough.
Ronon licked dry, cracked lips and pulled a knife from his hair. He only had one chance, but that had pretty much been the story of his life as a runner. He walked fast heel to toe, creeping up behind the Wraith. It only took two moves, slamming the blade into the carotid then yanking it out. The Wraith went down gurgling, blood gushing from the wound. Ronon wiped the knife clean on his pant leg then grabbed the stunner and went in.
The room was the detention section, with three cells but only one of those cells occupied. Rodney turned abruptly, pale, panting and clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides.
“Ronon?” He said, then launched into a knot of explanations riding on a single breath. “They took Teyla I don't know where and they have Sheppard and it's Kolya's brother doing this can you believe Kolya has a brother we have to get out of here...”
Ronon cut him off. “You hurt?”
One upon a time, that question would have elicited a diatribe of various aches and pains, some of which would have mattered, most of which wouldn't. But this time Rodney said, “I'll live. Just get me out all ready.”
Ronon palmed the door open and Rodney hurried out. Ronon held the knife out for him to take. “Which way did they go?”
Rodney grimaced at the left over blood but took it, then pointed to the left. “This way.”
Since Rodney had to lead, Ronon kept pace beside him and only a little ahead. They turned a corner, a Wraith heading their way. Ronon took it out with a stun blast then stabbed it in the neck. The facility, not being large, was easy to navigate until they came to a T-junction. It was the flash of white hair in the room at the end of the right-hand corridor that told Ronon which way to go.
“Hey!” he called. The Wraith in the room stepped out. Ronon shot it, stabbing it afterward.
What they saw on walking into the room made Ronon's blood drain to his feet.
Teyla was on the floor, a bloody rag in her hand. She looked up at them with eyes red and swollen from crying, and gasped one word.
“John.”
Sheppard was on the floor, a bloody pile of mutilated skin and bruised bones. Ronon's immediate thought was, “He's dead,” until he saw the feeble, shuddering rise of Sheppard's flank.
“I--” Teyla hiccuped. “I...”
Behind, Ronon could hear Rodney gagging in horror. Swallowing his own disgust and rage, Ronon surged forward.
“We need to go while we can.” He pulled the rag from Teyla's trembling hand, thrusting another knife from his hair in it's place.
Despite the urgency, the need to flee and get Sheppard medical help, Ronon was as gentle as he could be gathering John into his arms. He saw in that brief moment the lacerations all over John's back, the word for murderer carved into his chest and two holes too large to be bullet holes. There was still bleeding, sluggish but trickling down Sheppard's already stained skin.
It was impossible to spare John any more pain, but Ronon eventually maneuvered him into a fireman's carry, freeing up one hand for the stunner.
“Slit the neck of whoever I shoot,” Ronon told Teyla.
Teyla, tears still tracking down her face, nodded.
There was about as much resistance going out as there was coming in. Two Wraith tried to stop them, one stunned, the other Teyla crept up behind and slit its throat. They went the way Ronon had come and he found himself back in the stream, trying without success to keep John out of the water and keep his wounds from getting infected.
It was just as they reached the 'gate that they saw a Wraith dart heading toward the facility.
“I bet that's him,” Rodney said, hand hovering over the DHD, his face almost white. “Kolya's brother.” He renewed the dialing with the fumbling speed of a man with death biting at his heels. They went to the alpha site so as not to waste seconds with the IDC, then went home from there. They didn't wait for a med team; Ronon brought Sheppard to the infirmary himself, easing him down on a bed, not backing off until Keller pushed him away.
“We'll take good care of him,” Jennifer promised, and though Ronon believed her he almost followed them to where ever they were taking John.
A nurse led him back into the main hub of the infirmary, where Teyla and Rodney waited, already being checked over.
New tears glittered on Teyla's face. She looked up at Ronon, her eyes blank.
“I did that to him,” she said, calm. Too calm. She lifted her chin. “I had to. Kolya would have killed Rodney if I hadn't.” Her bottom lip trembled. Behind her, Rodney's dropped his gaze to the floor.
“I--” she began, then sobbed. “I did that to him.” She covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut.
Ronon went to her, gathered her in his arms and held on.
-------------------
John panicked, waking up, smelling chemicals, hearing machines, feeling pinches and invasive tubes. He should have known where he was – he usually did when waking up in the infirmary – but a part of his mind was glued to that place, and while what he felt and smelled was as familiar as it could get, that part of his mind had other ideas. He thought for sure Karel was about to experiment on him, so he freaked.
Then he heard Keller's voice, felt the cool sweet line of medication flow through his veins, and he slept.
The next time he woke, there was only a moment of panic, followed by immediate calm when Keller's words washed over him.
“It's okay,” she told him kindly. “You're okay.” She gave him an ice chip, and after it melted away in his mouth, he went back to sleep.
His third waking was less eventful but just as uncomfortable, full of dull aches and pains that made him long for more oblivion. Keller, despite her kind words, wouldn't let him sleep just yet.
“I need to let you know what you're in for,” she said. “It was pretty close. You'd lost a lot of blood, developed an infection pretty quick. Nothing bad, but it didn't help. The lacerations of your back weren't deep but they were tough to repair. We had to use a healing device, but it didn't work well. It didn't heal you, obviously, but it did help with the nerve damage enough so that you should be able to make a full recover. Until then, walking's probably going to be a pain... er, no pun intended.”
John would have smiled, but things were coming back to him, now, and he didn't like what the fragmented pieces of his memory were putting together.
“We found a strange substance in your blood, most of it metabolized but I'll need to ask you about it later. The cuts on your chest weren't deep so should heal fine. The holes in your chest and back I'm afraid may leave scarring.”
The pieces came together, the cuts, the worms, Teyla... oh, hell, Teyla! And then John was on his side with Keller's help as he puked up spit and bile. He eventually passed out.
The times he was awake enough to handle it, his team visited. Ronon and Rodney for the most part, standing or sitting, saying nothing and suffocating John with the uncomfortable silence.
John asked often,” Is Teyla okay?”
But they never answered, because talking even that much drained John and he was back to sleep within moments.
There was a lot of guilt going around, not just Teyla. Hell, not just Rodney and Ronon. When John was awake and alone, he cursed himself for getting caught, for putting his team through that kind of hell. When he was strong enough to sit up without feeling like the world was dropping out from under him, he had Keller call his team in.
“Teyla, too,” he said. “Tell them it's an order.”
Keller looked hesitant, but she was smart. She knew there would be no rest for the weary – any of the weary – until what John wanted to do was done. His team shuffled in, Teyla trailing behind, looking anywhere but at John.
John, much to Keller's distress, pushed himself up the rest of the way, then around, pulling his legs out from under the blanket, positioning himself on the edge of the bed.
He said, above Keller's protests, “Teyla, come here.”
Teyla moved slowly, contritely, forward. As soon as she was close enough, John reached out, cupping the back of her head and pushing her forward until their foreheads touched.
“It wasn't your fault,” he said. “You hear me?”
Tears slid down Teyla's cheek and she nodded. John wiped them away with the pad of his thumb.
“You did what you had to do to save Rodney. So don't even think for a moment that there's anything to forgive.” He lifted his head to look at McKay. “It's not your fault either, McKay. Or yours, Ronon. So stop blaming yourselves. Please.”
John didn't beg often – pride and all that – but right here, right now, it was worth it enough to say again.
“Please.”
“Then you'd better not be blaming yourself, either,” Ronon said, moving closer and clasping his hand on the back of John's neck, giving it an affectionate squeeze. Rodney shuffled after to give John's shoulder a quick clasp.
John looked back to Teyla, taking her wet face in both his hands.
“Please,” he whispered.
Teyla pursed her lips, but after a moment, met John's gaze and nodded. John put his forehead back to hers.
It wasn't happily ever after: guilt was way too tenacious for it to be that easy. There would be nightmares, there would forever be bad memories and, occasionally, the need to say sorry even years down the road. Happily ever after was a pipe dream.
“We'll get that bastard,” John said, looking up at each of his team. “We'll get him.”
Hope, however, wasn't.
The End
Ronon finally ran into a Wraith inside the compound, standing guard between him and the other side of an open door. The Wraith was alone as far as Ronon could see, armed with one of the long-handled stunners, the ones you could stab with when stunning wasn't good enough.
Ronon licked dry, cracked lips and pulled a knife from his hair. He only had one chance, but that had pretty much been the story of his life as a runner. He walked fast heel to toe, creeping up behind the Wraith. It only took two moves, slamming the blade into the carotid then yanking it out. The Wraith went down gurgling, blood gushing from the wound. Ronon wiped the knife clean on his pant leg then grabbed the stunner and went in.
The room was the detention section, with three cells but only one of those cells occupied. Rodney turned abruptly, pale, panting and clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides.
“Ronon?” He said, then launched into a knot of explanations riding on a single breath. “They took Teyla I don't know where and they have Sheppard and it's Kolya's brother doing this can you believe Kolya has a brother we have to get out of here...”
Ronon cut him off. “You hurt?”
One upon a time, that question would have elicited a diatribe of various aches and pains, some of which would have mattered, most of which wouldn't. But this time Rodney said, “I'll live. Just get me out all ready.”
Ronon palmed the door open and Rodney hurried out. Ronon held the knife out for him to take. “Which way did they go?”
Rodney grimaced at the left over blood but took it, then pointed to the left. “This way.”
Since Rodney had to lead, Ronon kept pace beside him and only a little ahead. They turned a corner, a Wraith heading their way. Ronon took it out with a stun blast then stabbed it in the neck. The facility, not being large, was easy to navigate until they came to a T-junction. It was the flash of white hair in the room at the end of the right-hand corridor that told Ronon which way to go.
“Hey!” he called. The Wraith in the room stepped out. Ronon shot it, stabbing it afterward.
What they saw on walking into the room made Ronon's blood drain to his feet.
Teyla was on the floor, a bloody rag in her hand. She looked up at them with eyes red and swollen from crying, and gasped one word.
“John.”
Sheppard was on the floor, a bloody pile of mutilated skin and bruised bones. Ronon's immediate thought was, “He's dead,” until he saw the feeble, shuddering rise of Sheppard's flank.
“I--” Teyla hiccuped. “I...”
Behind, Ronon could hear Rodney gagging in horror. Swallowing his own disgust and rage, Ronon surged forward.
“We need to go while we can.” He pulled the rag from Teyla's trembling hand, thrusting another knife from his hair in it's place.
Despite the urgency, the need to flee and get Sheppard medical help, Ronon was as gentle as he could be gathering John into his arms. He saw in that brief moment the lacerations all over John's back, the word for murderer carved into his chest and two holes too large to be bullet holes. There was still bleeding, sluggish but trickling down Sheppard's already stained skin.
It was impossible to spare John any more pain, but Ronon eventually maneuvered him into a fireman's carry, freeing up one hand for the stunner.
“Slit the neck of whoever I shoot,” Ronon told Teyla.
Teyla, tears still tracking down her face, nodded.
There was about as much resistance going out as there was coming in. Two Wraith tried to stop them, one stunned, the other Teyla crept up behind and slit its throat. They went the way Ronon had come and he found himself back in the stream, trying without success to keep John out of the water and keep his wounds from getting infected.
It was just as they reached the 'gate that they saw a Wraith dart heading toward the facility.
“I bet that's him,” Rodney said, hand hovering over the DHD, his face almost white. “Kolya's brother.” He renewed the dialing with the fumbling speed of a man with death biting at his heels. They went to the alpha site so as not to waste seconds with the IDC, then went home from there. They didn't wait for a med team; Ronon brought Sheppard to the infirmary himself, easing him down on a bed, not backing off until Keller pushed him away.
“We'll take good care of him,” Jennifer promised, and though Ronon believed her he almost followed them to where ever they were taking John.
A nurse led him back into the main hub of the infirmary, where Teyla and Rodney waited, already being checked over.
New tears glittered on Teyla's face. She looked up at Ronon, her eyes blank.
“I did that to him,” she said, calm. Too calm. She lifted her chin. “I had to. Kolya would have killed Rodney if I hadn't.” Her bottom lip trembled. Behind her, Rodney's dropped his gaze to the floor.
“I--” she began, then sobbed. “I did that to him.” She covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut.
Ronon went to her, gathered her in his arms and held on.
-------------------
John panicked, waking up, smelling chemicals, hearing machines, feeling pinches and invasive tubes. He should have known where he was – he usually did when waking up in the infirmary – but a part of his mind was glued to that place, and while what he felt and smelled was as familiar as it could get, that part of his mind had other ideas. He thought for sure Karel was about to experiment on him, so he freaked.
Then he heard Keller's voice, felt the cool sweet line of medication flow through his veins, and he slept.
The next time he woke, there was only a moment of panic, followed by immediate calm when Keller's words washed over him.
“It's okay,” she told him kindly. “You're okay.” She gave him an ice chip, and after it melted away in his mouth, he went back to sleep.
His third waking was less eventful but just as uncomfortable, full of dull aches and pains that made him long for more oblivion. Keller, despite her kind words, wouldn't let him sleep just yet.
“I need to let you know what you're in for,” she said. “It was pretty close. You'd lost a lot of blood, developed an infection pretty quick. Nothing bad, but it didn't help. The lacerations of your back weren't deep but they were tough to repair. We had to use a healing device, but it didn't work well. It didn't heal you, obviously, but it did help with the nerve damage enough so that you should be able to make a full recover. Until then, walking's probably going to be a pain... er, no pun intended.”
John would have smiled, but things were coming back to him, now, and he didn't like what the fragmented pieces of his memory were putting together.
“We found a strange substance in your blood, most of it metabolized but I'll need to ask you about it later. The cuts on your chest weren't deep so should heal fine. The holes in your chest and back I'm afraid may leave scarring.”
The pieces came together, the cuts, the worms, Teyla... oh, hell, Teyla! And then John was on his side with Keller's help as he puked up spit and bile. He eventually passed out.
The times he was awake enough to handle it, his team visited. Ronon and Rodney for the most part, standing or sitting, saying nothing and suffocating John with the uncomfortable silence.
John asked often,” Is Teyla okay?”
But they never answered, because talking even that much drained John and he was back to sleep within moments.
There was a lot of guilt going around, not just Teyla. Hell, not just Rodney and Ronon. When John was awake and alone, he cursed himself for getting caught, for putting his team through that kind of hell. When he was strong enough to sit up without feeling like the world was dropping out from under him, he had Keller call his team in.
“Teyla, too,” he said. “Tell them it's an order.”
Keller looked hesitant, but she was smart. She knew there would be no rest for the weary – any of the weary – until what John wanted to do was done. His team shuffled in, Teyla trailing behind, looking anywhere but at John.
John, much to Keller's distress, pushed himself up the rest of the way, then around, pulling his legs out from under the blanket, positioning himself on the edge of the bed.
He said, above Keller's protests, “Teyla, come here.”
Teyla moved slowly, contritely, forward. As soon as she was close enough, John reached out, cupping the back of her head and pushing her forward until their foreheads touched.
“It wasn't your fault,” he said. “You hear me?”
Tears slid down Teyla's cheek and she nodded. John wiped them away with the pad of his thumb.
“You did what you had to do to save Rodney. So don't even think for a moment that there's anything to forgive.” He lifted his head to look at McKay. “It's not your fault either, McKay. Or yours, Ronon. So stop blaming yourselves. Please.”
John didn't beg often – pride and all that – but right here, right now, it was worth it enough to say again.
“Please.”
“Then you'd better not be blaming yourself, either,” Ronon said, moving closer and clasping his hand on the back of John's neck, giving it an affectionate squeeze. Rodney shuffled after to give John's shoulder a quick clasp.
John looked back to Teyla, taking her wet face in both his hands.
“Please,” he whispered.
Teyla pursed her lips, but after a moment, met John's gaze and nodded. John put his forehead back to hers.
It wasn't happily ever after: guilt was way too tenacious for it to be that easy. There would be nightmares, there would forever be bad memories and, occasionally, the need to say sorry even years down the road. Happily ever after was a pipe dream.
“We'll get that bastard,” John said, looking up at each of his team. “We'll get him.”
Hope, however, wasn't.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-09-03 05:08 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-09-03 05:13 am (UTC)From:**applauds**
no subject
Date: 2010-09-03 03:20 pm (UTC)From:However, I have other people waiting to whump him some more, so I propose we have another ending for this story? It's like giving the reader the choice, more whump or back safe and sound :)
I hope you're okay with that?
no subject
Date: 2010-09-03 03:29 pm (UTC)From:Alternative writers, alternative endings, more shep whump,....all good.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-03 08:37 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-09-03 09:28 pm (UTC)From:And I'm already feeling sorry for Shep... he was so nice and safe in your ending *lol* I'll call that plan A and see what happens in plan B :)
Alternative Ending
Date: 2010-09-04 12:21 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-09-04 06:11 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-28 04:21 am (UTC)From:Well done ALL.